What's In A Name?
by LovinFace
Summary: Hutch is in a bad mood. Starsky decides to wait it out while at the same time sharing information from his new book. Then Starsky gets hurt and Hutch learns something about his partner.


Disclaimer: As always, I don't own them.

What's In A Name?

By LovinFace

Ken "Hutch" Hutchinson was in a bad mood. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason why, but one thing was certain…he was in no mood to put up with Starsky's antics today. He sighed. His partner, David Starsky, seemed to always be obsessing about one thing or another. Spicy foods. Astrology. Trivia. Scratch that_….useless_ trivia. So far the morning had been relatively quiet. Starsky wasn't talking much. Hutch didn't sense anything was bothering his partner…he was a little tired, but they had pulled a stakeout three nights in a row….and sleeping in a car in shifts doesn't exactly allow a person to get a good rest. At least they'd made their arrest last night though. Hutch tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then reached into his pocket, pulled out his pocket watch, and checked the time. What was taking Starsky so long?

Hutch watched from his car as his partner finally came sauntering down the sidewalk carrying a brown paper bag filled with God knows what. Starsky had begged for Hutch for pull over at Jim's Market before he wasted away from hunger. Hutch reminded him that he had eaten breakfast just a couple of hours earlier, but Starsky said he needed a snack to get him through until lunch. Not really in the mood to endure a Starsky sulk, Hutch had decided to comply and pulled over at the small market.

Starsky got in the car and started rummaging through the bag. He tossed an apple to Hutch.

"Here ya go. I got 'cha something healthy. I was gonna get you some owl's beak and goat hooves, but Jim said they were fresh out." He turned to Hutch and smiled.

Hutch took a bite of the apple and muttered, "Thanks."

Starsky continued to pull various items from the bag. A bag of chips, a candy bar, a package of Twinkies, and carton of milk.

Hutch just rolled his eyes. "You're really going to eat all that?"

"Yeah. I told you Hutch, I'm starving! I only had three donuts for breakfast. This'll tide me over until lunch." Starsky proceeded to open the bag of chips. He reached into the bag again and pulled out a small paperback book.

Hutch tried to see the title, but couldn't. "What cha got there? Shakespeare?"

He had a fleeting thought that he shouldn't rib his partner about his level of education. Hell, everybody knows who Shakespeare is. But the tone he used was a deliberate dig at his partner, and he knew that Starsky would take it that way. Trouble was, Hutch just couldn't make himself care.

Starsky glared at Hutch for a second then shrugged. _Well, Hutchinson, you're sure in a pissy mood_, he thought. But he knew that they were both tired and there was no need for them to be at each other's throats. The day had just started. So Starsky decided just to "wait it out."

"No, it's not Shakespeare, but you're close. For your information, this is a book on names. Jim's got a bunch of little books at the counter. It was only 50 cents, so I thought why not?"

Starsky pushed some potato chips in his mouth, talking as he chewed. "Let's see. Kenneth, Kenneth, Kenneth…" he flipped through the pages of the small book. "Well, Sweet Alice has you pegged, Blondie. It says here that Kenneth means 'handsome'."

Hutch couldn't help but smile. "Handsome, huh? Why am I not surprised?" He laughed, his mood lightening. "Okay, wise guy, what does your name mean?"

"I'll see in a minute. Let's check out Cap'n Dobey's name."

He licked the salt off his fingers then began leafing through the book. "Harold. It means leader of the army…wow, we're not army but we fight a war against crime, so it's kind of fits him, right?"

Hutch took the Starsky logic in stride. "You've got a point. What does your name mean?"

Starsky ignored him and continued leafing through the book. "Hey, let's look up Vanessa's name."

Hutch glared at his partner for evening mentioning the name of his ex-wife. So much for his mood improving.

Starsky looked up, oblivious to the glare. "Huh. It ain't got a meaning. Some guy made it up, Jonathan Swift. It's been used to describe a butterfly though."

"I can give it a meaning. I'll give you a clue. It starts with a B…and I _don't_ mean butterfly."

Starsky laughed and waved his hand at Hutch. "Okay, okay. Enough of Vanessa. Who else can we look up?"

Hutch thought for a minute. "How 'bout Huggy?"

"Hutch, Huggy means huggy. No need to look that one up." He rolled his eyes at his partner, and then sat the book down and opened his Twinkies, biting one in half. "I'll look up his real name."

Starsky picked up the book and began thumbing through the pages. "Ah, here we go. It means…industrious."

Hutch couldn't help but smile. "Well, that fits him. Now, tell me what David means."

Starsky swallowed the Twinkie and opened his milk carton, taking a long drink. "Okay. Let's see –"

"_Zebra 3, Zebra 3. A 2-1-1 in progress. 420 Wilshire. 420 Wilshire."_

Starsky stuffed the book into his jacket pocket and threw the Mars light on top of the car as Hutch peeled out onto the street.

XXXXXXXXXX

One call led to another, and by the end of the shift the detectives were dead on their feet. After the last report was typed, they trudged their way down the hall toward the parking garage.

Starsky yawned. "Hey, Hutch, you wanna get something to eat? I'll treat."

Hutch continued walking and spoke, not even looking at his partner. All he wanted to do was go home and bury his head in the covers. Maybe if he could get the world to go away for a while he'd feel better. "No. I'll drop you off and then I'm going home to crash."

Starsky sighed. Hutch had been in this mood all day and he had been taking the brunt of it. Enough was enough. No more waiting it out. He had to get his partner in a better mood before he took it upon himself to strangle the blonde.

"C'mon Hutch. There's a new diner on the way to my place. They have really great burgers and salads with all that healthy stuff you like. C'mon, whattaya say?" Starsky had tugged on Hutch's arm, making the man stop.

Hutch looked at his partner and noticed for the first time how tired he looked. He knew they were both tired. And he knew he had been pretty hard on Starsky all day. Besides, he was kind of hungry.

"Okay, we'll go. I guess I am a little hungry." Hutch said.

"Great! Let's go."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Starsky, you aren't really going to eat all that are you?" Hutch watched as Starsky spread out his feast before him. A cheeseburger - with extra onions – and fries on one plate. A bowl of chili. And of course, he had already ordered a side of apple pie for dessert.

Starsky ignored him and took a bite of his burger. "Oh man, I'm starving. This is so good." He dunked a fry into the chili and put it in his mouth.

Hutch put a forkful of lettuce in his mouth. "Yeah. You say it's good now…you'll see how good it is at 2 o'clock in the morning when you wake up with heartburn."

Starsky rolled his eyes. "You're just jealous because you don't have any taste – "

Hutch dropped his fork into his bowl of salad. "I don't have any taste? Where do you get off—"

Hutch was interrupted as a young man wearing a ski mask burst into the diner. "Give me all your money. NOW!"

The man began waving the gun around. The waitress walked to the cash register and opened it. With shaking hands she handed the money to the robber. He stuffed it into the pocket of his black jacket.

Hutch was watching the scene play out. Starsky's back was to the robber. The diner was relatively empty except for the waitress and an older couple sitting in a corner booth. Hutch knew there had to be a cook in the back and hoped like hell that he had run for help.

Starsky studied Hutch's face as he surveyed the diner and the robber. Hutch tapped his finger once on the table, letting Starsky know there appeared to be only one man involved. Starsky slid his hand slowly to his holster to retrieve his gun.

The robber walked over to the couple in the booth. "Give me your money and your jewelry."

He thrust the gun to the head of the woman, who was struggling to remove her wedding rings. Her husband quickly pulled out his wallet and handed it to the young man. Starsky and Hutch knew they would be next. Starsky nodded his head slightly to let Hutch know that he was ready.

The robber approached their table next. "Give me your wallets."

Hutch slowly pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and placed it on the table. The robber put the gun up to Hutch's head and turned to Starsky.

"Now you."

Starsky pulled his hand out from his jacket and stood at the same time. He thrust his gun at the head of the robber.

"No. I don't think I will." He pushed the gun harder against the man's temple.

Hutch reached for the robber's gun and pulled it out of his grasp. He pulled out his cuffs and handcuffed the man before pushing him down onto a chair. Starsky pulled off the ski mask and they both shook their heads when they realized it was only a kid, no more than 17 years old.

Hutch walked toward the door and then turned back to face his partner. "I'll call it in."

Starsky merely nodded. Hutch turned back toward the door.

"HUUUUUUTCH!"

Hutch immediately fell to the floor. He saw Starsky fire his gun and heard what sounded like an echo of gunfire. Starsky fell to the floor. Hutch pulled his own gun and turned toward the counter. He saw the cook lying on the floor, his white t-shirt rapidly turning red, a gun in his hand.

Hutch took the gun from the dead man's hand and rushed to his partner's side.

"Hutch? Hutch?" Starsky reached out for his partner. His eyes were clenched shut. "Oh, God."

Hutch took the searching hand in his own. "I'm right here, Starsk. I'm right here."

Starsky was lying on his back. His denim shirt was rapidly turning red as blood pumped out of the chest wound.

"Get me some towels!" he yelled at the waitress. She ran to the back of the kitchen.

The couple from the corner booth approached the two detectives. The woman spoke first. "Is there anything we can do?"

The waitress returned with the towels. Hutch immediately put one on the wound and applied pressure to Starsky's chest, eliciting a deep pain-filled moan from his partner.

Hutch took his free hand and stroked Starsky's hair. "It's okay, Buddy. It's okay."

He looked up at the couple and the waitress.

"We need help. One of you go call an ambulance. Then call the police and fill them in on what happened. Tell them Detective David Starsky has been shot. Tell them to get a message to Captain Dobey." The waitress hurried to the phone behind the counter to make the calls.

Starsky moaned again and Hutch immediately turned back to his partner, leaning in close to the brunette's ear. "Hang in there, Buddy. You're doing good."

"Hutch….you….okay?" Starsky gasped.

Hutch looked down at his friend, guilt and remorse flooding his being. He pasted on a smile. "Yeah, Buddy. I'm fine. And you will be too. Help's on its way."

"That bastard killed my brother. I hope the pig dies."

Hutch jerked his head up toward the direction of the kid who had come in to rob the place.

"Yeah? Well if he does, you're going up for accessory to murder," Hutch seethed. "And I won't rest until I see you locked up for the rest of your life."

The kid glared at Hutch then turned away. The man from the booth knelt down beside the detectives.

"I'm Liam Thomas. This is my wife Rachel. We want to help."

Rachel stood behind her husband, wringing her hands nervously.

"Ms. Thomas, if you could get a wet cloth I'd appreciate it." She turned and went in search of a cloth and water.

Hutch continued, " And Mr. Thomas, if you'll just make sure that punk doesn't move—"

A choking sound tore itself from Starsky's throat and then he went limp. Hutch put his hand to Starsky's neck in search of a pulse, but found none.

"Dammit Starsky, don't you do this. Don't you dare do this!"

Hutch positioned himself next to his partner to begin CPR. Mr. Thomas arched Starsky's head back.

"I know CPR too. You do the chest compressions, I'll do the breathing."

The men worked in tandem to keep Starsky alive. Blood pushed its way between Hutch's fingers with each compression.

"C'mon Starsk. Hang in there buddy. Hang in there."

XXXXXXXXXX

The first thing Captain Dobey noticed when he entered the surgical waiting room was Hutch sitting in a green plastic chair, his head in his hands. As he approached the detective, he could see the blood stains on Hutch's t-shirt and jeans. Hutch looked up as his captain approached. Dobey could see dried blood on the palms on Hutch's hands.

Dobey pulled a chair over and sat directly in front of Hutch. "How's Starsky?"

Hutch looked down at his hands, carefully flicking flecks of dried blood onto the floor. "They don't know if he's going to make it, Captain."

"What happened?"

"Some punk pulled a robbery in a diner. We thought there was only one involved…turned out his brother was a cook at the place and in on the robbery. He pulled a gun and …..Starsk saved my life."

A nurse entered the waiting room and handed Hutch a plastic bag holding Starsky's "personal effects," a phrase that Hutch had always found to be impersonal. He took the bag and sat down on the couch in the waiting area. He pulled out Starsky's badge and traced its outline with his finger, then returned it to the bag and pulled out the book of names.

Dobey joined him on the couch. "What have you got there?"

Hutch handed the book to Dobey. "It's a book on names. Starsky bought it this morning. Your name means army leader."

Dobey opened the book to his name. "So it does. Interesting."

He handed the book back to Hutch, who looked for the page of names beginning with D.

The surgeon entered the waiting room and walked toward Hutch and Dobey.

Hutch stood. "How is he doctor?" He tried not to look at the blood – Starsky's blood -- on doctor's scrubs.

"He lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go for a while. But barring any complications, he should be fine." The doctor cupped his hand on the back of his neck and kneaded his tired muscles. "We're getting him settled now. I'll send a nurse to get you when he's ready."

An hour later Hutch was taken to Starsky's room. He looked down at his sleeping partner. His chest was wrapped in gauze and he was hooked up to IV's, a catheter, a heart monitor, and other various types of machinery. Hutch cautiously took Starsky's cold hand into his own.

"I'm so sorry, Starsk. God, I can't believe this is happening."

Starsky's lashes fluttered briefly then parted revealing a slit of blue.

Hutch watched as his partner tried to find his way to consciousness. "That's it, Buddy. Wake up for me."

Starsky managed to open his eyes and tried to speak, but found he couldn't.

"No, don't say anything Starsk. The doctor says you're gonna be okay." He ran his hand through Starsky's hair, then began playing with a curl absently.

"Not…fault." Starsky whispered.

Hutch felt a tear escape his eye. "God, Starsk, how can you say that? I treated you like shit all day, and then….if I had been paying attention…."

"Not…you. Bad…guy." Starsky closed his eyes. "Me…thee" His head lolled to the side and Hutch knew that he was asleep.

Hutch wiped the tears from his eyes. What did he do to deserve to have David Starsky in his life? The man just woke up from surgery to remove a bullet from his a chest, only to tell his partner that it wasn't his fault and that he still trusted him.

Hutch watched the rise and fall of Starsky's chest for a few moments and then retrieved the bag of Starsky's things. He fished in the bag and pulled out the book. Finding the D section, he looked up the name David.

_David (Hebrew) Beloved, friend_.

Hutch looked down at his perfectly named partner and smiled.

The End


End file.
